Nightshade
by The Maiden of Autumn
Summary: In the midst of a centuries-old war between angels and demons, both sides are sick of the bloodshed. It's only natural that the angels decide to capture a demon in order to extract information. But secrets have a way of wanting to be kept, and in the process of figuring out what started this war all that time ago, the ugly truth will be spilt at a hefty cost. LightxLxKira
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: **The Maiden of Autumn owns nothing.

Okay. OKAY. So I'm a sucker for all things supernatural, as well as all things kinda steampunk, (Airships... hgnnnhgn...yes...). I admit this. I found this little story on my laptop, hidden away in _another_ locked folder- dear Jesus, I have GOT to stop password locking things because I always forget the password- and after trying out a few different passwords, I correctly guessed the one that unlocked it.

…I suck, okay?

Aaaaanyways, this was originally an original story. But, I kinda can't write original stories for some reason and this really sucked. So, I started taking it apart paragraph by paragraph, rewriting it and tweaking things to make it a DN fancfiction with the one rare threesome that I shall ship until I get people converted to MY side.

KiraxLxLight.

This will catch on. MARK MY WORDS, MY LOVELIES.

…There's only one other story on this site I've seen that makes use of this pairing, other than my own Seeing Double and Sophia's Flight. Speaking of which, I'm also working on a crossover fic based on Fable and- GodDAMN those video games… They influence me waaaay too fucking much.

Just don't expect hasty updates from this, okay? This was just something I was working on in the midst of the writer's block I've been having. Distraction and a change of pace. There's always something thrilling about starting a new story that gets the juices flowing.

…But yeah. Read and hopefully enjoy.

* * *

There was a great boom, and an explosion rocked the airship the _Wammy_. Mihael Keehl, or Mello as he preferred, who the human captaining the airship he was currently on, as well as being commander of the whole fleet of mechanical ships that the combined human and angel forces, cursed loudly and crudely. While everyone else stumbled around, trying to regain their balance, he held steady with a skill that spoke of years of practice.

"Motherfucking demon bastards! If things were going my way I'd blow every single fucking one of them back the deepest pit of hell where they crawled from!" Mello attempted to maneuver the failing airship away from the demon that was trying to bring it down with its firebombs, ignoring the chaos of the other human crewmembers aboard the ship.

Mail Jeevas, or Matt for short, who was Mello's ever-present partner-in-crime as well as just partner, looked up from the computer where he had been monitoring the ship's mechanical vitals.

His narrowed eyes were obscured by the orange goggles he always wore, but the way he worried the unlit cigarette between teeth-worried, reddened lips belied his sudden agitation. "Mells!" he called, leaning over the metal table, bracing himself as another blow rocked the ship, white wings flaring out as he rebalanced himself, leather-booted feet dancing lightly across the wooden floor as he fought to regain his footing. "We've got a problem!"

Mello's electric-blue eyes flitted over the red-headed angel as he fought against the strain of the wheel, attempting to keep the ship from leaning too far to the side and overturning in the air. The muscles in his arms were stretched taut, and the skin of his knuckles underneath padded leather gloves were white with strain as he gripped the wheel, pushing it to the right with all of his strength.

"What?" Mello snarled sharply, blonde slashes of eyebrows furrowed in strain as he fought the wheel.

Bared fingers flying across the keyboard, Matt shook his head in desperation as he looked up, eyes widening. The digital scan of the ship he had just brought up showed massive damage to the outside port hull. The demon's fireball had melted the metal encompassing the wooden frame inside, and the fires had sparked a fire inside, where one of the three major engines were located.

"The engine's gonna blow!" Matt called, eliciting another round of strained, snarled cursing from the blonde at the wheel.

Gritting his teeth, Mello gave the wheel another hard shove, resulting in a slight straightening of the ship. Seeing their Captain's struggle, a few of the other crewmembers rushed unsteadily to aide him, pushing or pulling against the wheel as well. Mello turned to send a glare Matt's way, a glare that was laced with well-disguised worry and a keen sense of desperation. "Then what the fuck are you waiting for?" Mello gritted out, his blue cap knocked askew as another blast rocked the ship, sending him stumbling. The wheel spun crazily before three crewmembers stopped it, grunting from exertion.

Righting himself, Mello pointed to an escape hatch, yelling at Mail as he ran back to the wheel. "Get the fuck out there and fix it!"

Standing to his feet, the redheaded angel nodded shortly, brooking no argument. Equals they may be on the ground, on the airship, Mello was the Captain and his orders were as good as law. Matt grabbed his tool kit- something he had near him at all times, for he was the Chief Mechanic on the _Wammy_\- and hooked it to the leather belt slung around his skinny waist.

With no further hesitation, he strode to the hatch on the starboard side of the airship yanked the handle down with a swift, harsh jerk. The door, no longer secured, was flung open by the force of the high-altitude winds, banging harshly against the metal outside of the ship.

Checking to make sure that his repair kit was tightly secured on his belt, as was the trusty dagger gifted to him by Mello on the eve of their partnership ceremony, Matt looked up, the orange tint of his goggles distorting everything to a vaguely fiery color. The blood-red of the sun just setting over the horizon only served to make the effect more extreme, and a grim smile twisted Matt's lips as he stood at the hatch, red-tinted feathers of his wings due to the lighting rustling and hair fluttering as his slim body was buffeted by the harsh winds.

It seemed like the world was going up in flames.

…And with the presence of the demons and dragons, it might as well be.

Matt gave a breathy laugh at that thought before the grip his fingers had on the sides of the hatch loosened and he fell into the sky, laughing madly as a stray fireball just passed in front of his eyes in a blazing streak.

His arms came out to stabilize his fall, shaking from the force of the wind, and as soon as he deemed he had fallen far enough, he tucked in his wings, executed a roll, and then spread the gleaming, feathered appendages out, tilting his body so that the force of the wind and gravity pulled him underneath the belly of the metal-clad ship.

The wind tore at his clothes, screamed in his ears and tickled the thin skin of his wings in between his feather-slits. Right then, Matt had never felt more alive, even as the nagging worry about Mello who was on a failing ship pricked at the back of his mind.

Gliding smoothly underneath the ship, he came out on the port side and spread his wings, bringing up his knees in a pseudo-crouch and beating his powerful wings twice to bring himself to a vertical halt just a bit below the port propeller. His green eyes narrowed as they flitted over the side of the ship, where the damage was clearly displayed.

It was bad.

Really, really fucking bad.

A gigantic hole had been melted in the ship, larger in life than it had been on the digital analysis displayed on his computer screen. Smoke poured from the still searing-hot metal, and Matt could see the flicker of flames from the inside, where the engine was.

And if those flames happened to catch on an oil leak or something along those lines, the whole thing was gonna blow. All of it.

The _Whammy_ was done for in this fight. Matt could, using magic and some rather impromptu repairs from emergency supplies located near each engine, patch the engine enough to allow Mello's beloved ship to make it back to Civit'Atem, their city, but for it to be battle-worthy and running smoothly once more, serious, complete repairs would need to be done.

Scrubbing a leather glove-clad hand across his face, Matt shook his head and his eyes tightened. Powerful wings beating at a rapid pace, Matt propelled himself towards the hole, shooting inside and executing a roll as he shot into the exposed engine room. A couple of oil-drenched, filthy crewmembers hailed him as he regained his footing, saluting smartly.

These were men that Matt knew and trusted, as he worked with on a daily basis. They respected him due to his knowledge of all things mechanical as well as his status and Chief Mechanic, and Matt knew that his barked, orders would be carried out immediately and with great efficiency as he ordered them to put out the fires, fix the engine the best they could and for _fuck's sake _watch his back as he attempted to patch up the hole at least somewhat.

As Matt unhooked his repair kit and slung it onto the ground, riffling through it for the tools he would need, a gritted, telepathic voice reached into his mind, giving it a not-so-gentle prod, causing Matt to wince lightly, though a small smile overtook his lips at the loving, (at least for Mello) words that accompanied the harsh probe.

_Be careful, you fucking idiot_, Mello's harsh voice came over their telepathic bond. There was a strain in his thought that was not entirely from his efforts to steady and right the ship._ If you die, I'll motherfucking kill you all over again._

Laughing breathily, Matt stood to his feet, hammer and wrench clutched tightly in his hands as he rose to his feet.

_God forbid that I die twice, sweetheart,_ Matt drawled back shortly, mockingly as he stepped outside the hole again, rising from the floor with a few beats of his wings, spiraling around to regard the gaping hole. With critical eyes he assessed it, gauging what would need to be done, and how much of a drain it would be on his energy.

Angels were capable of many things with their magic, able to bend and twist the shape of what they wanted to suit their whims and needs. However, to alter their world in such a way required the user's energy. The Ancient language was simply the conduit for change; energy, the life source of all living creatures was what was needed to power the change. And too much, using all of one's energy could result in fainting, or if the draw continued, death as the magic sucked out the last remaining dregs of life.

Matt was not the most powerful of angels, which was why he had always preferred mechanics, which was the repair, creation, and alteration of working things with nothing more than tools, hands, and pure hard work, to more ethereal means. However, Matt, as all angels and mythical beings, was still well versed in the Ancient language and magic. In circumstances, it did help him greatly, but he wasn't sure that he was going to be able to fix this on such short notice, without better tools and more materials other than the scant magic he was able to use.

Still, he wasn't Chief Mechanic just because his partner was the Captain of this airship and he himself was an angel. Gritting his teeth, Matt flew upwards, hovering near a jagged edge of metal. He snatched up the nuts and bolts that were hanging loosely from the torn, melted metal, the ones that were still intact, and shoved them into his vest pocket for later.

Then, he placed one hand on the edge of the metal. Clearing his mind, Matt summoned the energy he could feel flowing through him to the forefront of his mind, and whispered, "Insterno," allowing the ancient word to act as the shaping conduit of the energy, allowing it to make the metal glow and start to expand, under the direction of his mind. It did not make the metal grow, nor create metal from nothing. It simply forced the metal to spread out, thinning into a weak, yet covering layer. He did not force it out to bridge the whole gap. Instead, he allowed it to spread a few feet, then tucked his wings in for a brief second to drop about a meter, to a new place, and repeated the process.

The efforts were draining, and Matt could feel his strength ebbing as he forced the metal covering of the ship to spread, and repeated the process all around the circular gap until the jagged edges overlapped in a thing, jagged line.

Grinning tiredly, face drawn and pale from his efforts, the red-haired angel nonetheless brought his wrench up, along with his hammer, placing the wrench against metal. Then, using his strength, he brought the hammer down, using a few strong strikes to punch holes all up the line of overlapping metal. Then, he went back and secured the two folds in place with the previously gathered nuts and bolts, wrenching them securely into place.

Just as he was wrenching the last nut firmly into place, a screeching sound reached Matt's ears, and recognizing the familiar sound, Matt's head whipped up in dread.

_Dragons._

Seeing the massive, scaled creatures winging their way towards the battlefield had a shock of fear flashing through Matt's spine, dread pooling in his gut. The creatures had a tendency to attack airships, rending the outer metal shell and tearing at the rudders and propellers.

And with the _Whammy _already in a delicate position…

Matt cursed and kicked off the side of the ship, dropping his hammer and wrench as he did so, for they were somewhat heavy and would only weigh him down. Speed was a necessity, and he beat his wings furiously, teeth gritted against the harsh wind as he streaked over the top of the ship, back to the starboard side. He was no longer there to monitor the computers, and Mello was preoccupied with controlling the ship and keeping it steady- he would not notice the incoming dragons on the horizons nor bother to check the warning the computer was surely giving off about the enemy.

Folding his wings in, he dipped into a steep dive and then flapped hard, diving into the escape hatch. He rolled on the ground, coughing once as he hit a metal table.

His ears were ringing from the blow, and yet, he forced what strength was left into his arms and pushed himself up, shaking his head to clear it. Crimson-red hair fell into his eyes and he brushed it away as he slowly and shakily rose to his knees, emerald-green eyes flitting about the room, attempting to locate Mello.

...It was really no surprise, Matt thought as he hauled himself to a standing position, using the table that he had crashed into as leverage, leaning on it shakily, that Mello was still fighting the wheel, face contorted into a grimace of strain as he attempted to steady the _Wammy_.

Of course, his actions blinded him to what was happening outside of the ship, and before Matt had time to call to Mello, tell him to _fucking look behind him for Christ's sake!_\- the airship came to a sudden halt in the air, as if frozen in place.

Mello, cursing and swearing, went stumbling as the wheel finally gave, no more air resistance to the rudders making it stiff. Righting himself, he whipped around, momentarily locking eyes with Matt, a flash of relief going through his eyes as he saw the angel back, safe. However, they quickly cleared of anything but shock as he turned, finally able to see the sight that had frozen Matt through the glass helm of the airship's control room.

It was a sight that caused a knot of dread to form in any angel or human's stomach, no matter how brave or fierce they thought themselves to be. The leader of the demon forces, their Commander was hovering just a few meters away from the helm of the ship, one hand outstretched and glowing with crackling blackness as blazing amber eyes remained locked on the ship, peering inside.

For a split second, the demon's eyes locked with Mello's, freezing the normally valiant Captain, before they moved on, roving over the ship.

It dawned suddenly on Matt, who was watching the powerful demon however, caramel-colored spikes of hair fluttering in the wind, blood-red wings with demonic carvings etched in black to the leathery surface beating almost lazily and amber eyes blazing, that the creature was the one holding them suspended in air. The ship was completely at the Commander's mercy, for no one dared engage him in attempts to fight his control.

A small smirk tugged at the demon's lips as Matt remained frozen. A clawed hand raised, and a ball of blazing light gathered in the armor-clad hand, growing larger as more and more energy was gathered.

Recognizing the threat, a sharp spike of fear pooled in Matt's gut.

_This was not fucking good._

He leaped into action, crouching and then propelling himself forwards with a controlled beat of his powerful wings. A brief flash of guilt speared Matt as he thought of the other humans that would be left behind, but it passed quickly and burdened him for no more than a moment. His loyalty was to Mello, and no other. He was the single most important thing, more so than any other human friend or even the beloved airship itself.

He was top priority, and the imminent threat gathering in the demon's hand, that ball of heat and fire that would deal the last blow to the already struggling airship made Matt's actions swift and instinctive.

He crashed into Mello, clasping the human around the waist tightly, ignoring the yelp of indignacy, and quickly rose to his feet, tugging Mello up with him. A flash of light caught his eye, and right before he raised a booted foot and brought it down, opening the escape hatch that opened into deep blue sky below, he saw the demon Commander raise his arm, eyes wide and fangs showing in a triumphant sneer.

Matt, with a cursing Mello tightly in tow, stepped through the hatch right as the ball of fire was lobbed at the suspended airship. The two fell, feeling the cold air pull at their clothing and hair, watching as the ball of fire hit the _Wammy_ square in the hull. Black energy crackled along the tongues of flame, helping it spread faster and burn unnaturally hot and unsmotherable.

Before they had a chance to see the true extent of the damage, Matt shook himself from his stupor and reached out, grabbing Mello's upper arms, snapping out his wings as he did so. With a harsh jerk, air pressed against the bottom of Matt's wings, forcing them to an almost-halt. They drifted slowly in the cool air, skin around emerald-green eyes clenching as Matt fought and struggled to keep them both supported.

Before Mello could say anything, rail and curse at their situation, for being forced to abandon his ship, a loud boom and many crackles of splitting metal, popping bolts and burning fire sounded from above, followed by a loud screech. Both men inclined their head to see the _Wammy_ split into two, heated chunks and pieces of wood, metal, and other paraphernalia from the burning wreck of an airship come falling down.

"Fuck!" Mello cursed, realizing the danger they were in. They could easily be hit by something, and to be injured this high up… "Matt!" Mello barked, craning his head, "Get us the fuck out of-"

He was cut off as Matt dodged sharply to the right, a piece of flying metal that Mello vaguely recognized as a pipe from one of the three engines hurtled past them, grazing the side of Mello's face, though at the moment, he barely noticed. Hissing, Matt readjusted his grip on Mello and folded his wings close into his body, going into a steep dive. The wind screamed in their ears, forcing burning tears from Mello's eyes and stinging across his exposed skin as they spiraled towards the ground.

It was only when they were but meters from the earth that Matt finally opened his wings a bit, gradually slowing them down, bringing them gently closer to the ground until they alighted with a soft _thump._ Looking around, Matt could see that they were at the bottom of a small knoll, their view of the horizon obscured by the gentle rise of a hill in front of them.

Shaking Matt's hands off, Mello stormed away, up the hill, and Matt could catch a few passing worried thoughts about the state of the _Wammy_, which was no longer in the air.

The red-haired angel let Mello go, sensing that he needed a few moments alone. The _Wammy_ had been specially designed by Mello, (with just a little help from Matt) the construction of the airship supervised by the human, and it was his pride and joy. To have it brought down in such a way was a huge blow, and deep down, Matt knew that it would be some time before the airship could be fully fixed and battle-worthy once more, if ever. Matt feared that the _Wammy_ was unsalvageable, lost forever.

Sighing, he scrubbed a gloved hand across his face, slipping his goggles off, as they were smeared with sweat and smoke residue, making his vision blurry. Immediately, the orange color of the world disappeared, making Matt blink as everything returned to its normal color.

His emerald-green eyes raised to the sky, scanning it as he absentmindedly cleaned his goggles off. However, a sudden harsh thump from behind him had Matt whirling around, goggles dropping to the ground as he instinctively reached for the dagger at his side. At the sight of an angel crumpled on the grass, though, Matt was rushing to their side, dropping to one knee.

The angel's gleaming silver armor identified them as male, the runes of the Magia'Lingua spelling out wards of magic and physical protection inscribed into the armor.

"Hey!" Matt exclaimed, reaching out to roll the angel over with great care. The action resulted in the revealing of white curls and a delicate, youthful face. Five slash marks, like those from claws, were carved onto the angle's chest. They appeared to have ripped through the gleaming armor with terrifying ease. The edges of the torn armor were wilted black and curled in on itself around the slash marks, and Matt knew it then to be from dark energy.

He was just about to reach out and attempt to take a better look at the wounds when the angel jolted, grey eyes snapping open. A shudder wracked the angel's small body and a series of blood-laced, wet-sounding coughs overtook him as he tried to rise to a sitting position.

Matt suddenly recognized the angel's face- it was Near, a first-class medic, though he was not a shabby fighter by any means. He was deadly with any type of small blade that made its way into his capable hands.

"Near! Shit! What happened?!" Matt swore as he placed a gloved hand onto Near's shoulder, forcing him down onto the ground once more. Light-laced blood, tainted with black darkness was seeping from the jagged slash marks on the angel's torso, and Matt knew it would take his last reserves of energy to purge the wound of foulness.

As Near recovered himself somewhat, catching his breath, Matt braced himself and placed a hand over the slash marks. Under orange-tinted goggles, emerald eyes closed in concentration as he willed his last bit of reserve energy to his hands, infusing it with the power of light each and every angel was born with and was able to easily wield.

Then, he directed it into Near's wounds, purifying them of the infecting darkness and closing the first layer of skin. Had he been in possession of more energy, he would have healed more, but that was all he could manage without passing out.

Near coughed once more, clotted blood staining his lips. Shaking his head, he wiped his lips almost contemptuously, flicking away the blood and turning his head to the side, spitting to rid himself of the iron-tasting liquid. Slowly, he pushed himself to a sitting position, as Matt pulled back, wiping his bloodied hand on the grass. The injured angel gave Matt a short nod of thanks before Charcoal-grey eyes rose to the sky, highlighted in blood-red from the just-setting sun.

They scanned the area for but a moment before they locked on something, and Near emotionlessly raised and arm and pointed to the direction he was gazing at, gesturing towards something. Coral-pink lips opened, and Near uttered one word that made the small hairs on the back of Matt's nape to rise and his angelic blood run ice-cold.

"Kira."

Lifting his head slowly, Matt turned his head up, emerald eyes widening in shock as they locked onto the sight that sent chills of terror run down his spine.

He looked much like the Commander, Kira did. He bore the same features, same build of body and color of hair-spikes, but it was there that the similarities ended. Crimson eyes, blazing with inner demonic fire and bloodlust seemed to dance in delight as one after another angel fell under his black sword. Blood-red, tattered wings kept him aloft in the air, crimson sunset seeming to highlight the intricate contours of his black armor.

Matt's eyes locked onto the black blade that Kira carried, the same gleaming black that Matt imagined the color of death to be. Even from where he stood, he could see blood-red energy crackling along the length of the blade, formed into the shape of a dragon wing- sharp and smooth at the top, but serrated cruelly near the hilt of the blade, with a tip that was able to pierce through even the strongest, finest armor.

Matt knew, from his lessons and own research on demons, that they all carried a special weapon, made by themselves, as custom dictated. They spent years training themselves with it, so that it would become no more than an extension of their arm. They were immortal, as were angels, so years were of no importance to them. It was widely known that demons preferred war to other, more enlightening things such as reading, writing, building cities, and helping others. Of course, no one really knew what demons did in their spare time, as no one was willing to get close to them, much less even form a partnership with them.

All demons were dangerous, lethal creatures, but Kira was said to be the worst. Parents told their children stories about the demon, who was the General of the demon forces, in order to scare their children into better behavior. Tales of his lethality and cruelty were whispered about in corners of bars and taverns, and on the battlefield, to stand up to him meant instant death. The caramel-haired demon Commander was the leader of the enemy forces, yes, but his twin brother, Kira, he was a force unto himself.

He was brilliant, ordering raids that were planned flawlessly, and devising new battle strategies. He was lethal- if he wanted an enemy dead, they had only a few seconds to live. And it was rumored that he was merciless. The sight of the demon Commander meant that there was no chance of winning a battle, because where the Commander went, Kira went. And wherever Kira, _Killer_, went, death and destruction followed.

Matt, to no surprise, heard a telepathically-communicated order to fall back to the city, where the demons could not enter. There were spells warding off darkness- based creatures, and no matter how strong the demon Commander, General Kira, or any of the other demons were, they were darkness based. The city would not allow a demon or dragon, who fought with the demons, to enter unless specified. And unless the impossibility of capturing a demon happened, there was no way a demon was sneaking through the defenses.

Matt snapped out of his musings as he heard a groan and felt a flash of pain from Mello transfer itself to him through their bond. Turning away from Near, Matt saw Mello on his knees and rushed over to him, only pausing to retrieve his orange-lensed goggles as he did so. The angel knelt as soon as he was but a foot from Mello, gently reaching out to place a hand on Mello's shoulder. Matt took a second to rake emerald-green eyes briefly over the blonde's from, noting his blue uniform bore new rips and some scorch marks, but other than that, there appeared to be no damage to the man himself.

"Mello!" Matt exclaimed, watching as the blonde's crystal-blue eyes fluttered open, hazy and muddled, but still so very much alive and _okay_. "Thank fuck… I thought something was seriously wrong. The Commanders issued an order to fall back to the city!"

Mello groaned in a mixture of anger, pain, and despair. The only time that a retreat was called was if there was no hope of driving off the demons in that certain battle, and as he looked up, that was exactly what he saw- no hope for the angels' forces today. Blue eyes trailed the path of the bastard demon General as he cavorted about in the skies, executing a deadly and bloody dance with each angel that attempted to put an end to him.

It was not long before he tore his eyes away from the sight, however, unwilling to watch the slaughter of any more angels this day. He couldn't handle it, not after the utter destruction of his beloved airship. Silently, he held out his hand for Matt to take, and the red-haired angel helped to tug Mello to his feet, turning him around to fully face him for the first time since the explosion. As preoccupied as Matt had been with an injured Near, he had not truly taken in the extent of Mello's injuries caused by their descent from the exploding airship.

A flash of bright red caught Matt's eye, and horrified, Matt leant in closer to get a better look at what had previously been hidden from him. "Mello," Matt breathed, gently grasping the blonde's chin and turning it to the side, to better see the side of his face. Patches of skin were burnt off, no doubt by a hot piece of debris flying, or the searing hotness of the flames that had overtaken and consumed the ship. "The side of your face…"

Adrenalin and the overwhelming thoughts of the _Wammy_'s destruction no doubt drew Mello's attention away from the pain that should have been unbearable.

"I know, you fucking idiot," Mello snarled, slapping Matt's hand away. Blue eyes flashed in mixed anger and despair, and Matt could see the way his fingers clenched, as if he were preventing himself from reaching up to examine his face himself. "Don't force me to think about it- just get me back so that I can get patched up and start working on another airship."

Matt blinked once, taken aback, before his eyes hardened and he let out a humorless chuckle. Mello was, as always, undeniably and endearingly _Mello_.

Wrapping his left arm around the human's slim waist and hoisting Mello's right one over his shoulder, Matt glanced at Mello briefly before murmuring, right before he spread his gleaming white wings and alit into the sky, "We'll shoot the fuckers out of the sky this time. Be damned near impenetrable."

"Fuck yes it will," Mello growled, allowing the cool air rushing against his body to soothe the fiery burning of the seared skin of his face. The solid warmth of Matt's arm wrapped around him, the feel of a firm shoulder under his hand and a firm body pressed against his side lent a steadiness to him and helped him to forget about the searing pain overtaking the side of his face.

Next time.

Next time, it would not be his airship going down.

It would be the demons that plagued this earth.

* * *

So. I was awesome and made up a language... not really. Well, somewhat. My original language that also is going to be used in a few future fics is going to be making a small debut in this one. But there's two languages here: the Magia'Lingua and the Niccha'Vey. The Magia'Lingua is based off of Latin, (thanks, Google Translate!) and is the language the angels use to converse and work magic in. The Niccha'Vey, which has varying translations depending on who's referring to the language, is my very own original language and shall be featured in future chapters. I shall include translations in each chapter at the bottom.

**Translations**

_Magia'Lingua_

Civit'Atem = White City

Insterno = Cover (to fix/repair)


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: **The Maiden of Autumn owns nothing.

Long time, no write, guys. Lotsa stuff been happening, I won't make any excuses. Brief summary? Graduated, been working, got blackout drunk with some friends while camping and woke up with a black eye, (we still don't know how I got the bastard) fended off a few unwanted advances from some creepies and got a huge cherry blossom tattoo along my right side. Caught up? Yep? Carry on.

So, I got a question courtesy of a PM basically asking what, exactly, I had in mind when it came to the demons… Have you guys ever played Legend of Dragoon? Epic game, watched my dad and older bro play it when I was young and played it myself. Many, many great hours spent playing it. Good times… but image search it and voila. Should be pretty self-explanatory. And I've been playing a LOT of Assassin's Creed lately, and their robes with the hood and everything? Totally awesome. They might have influenced the angel's clothes. Um, a lot.

(And I've been marathoning Supernatural nonstop since Tuesday. I'm serious. Please. Send help.)

* * *

Kira watched as the angels pulled out of the battle one by one and escaped, winging back to the white city on the horizon. He allowed them to pull away, seeing no purpose in pursing them, though he surely could have picked off a few more with his sword should he have chosen to give chase. Crimson eyes watched the retreat of the winged beings unblinkingly, hovering in the air with powerful beats of his own blood-red and ebony-black wings.

It was only when the last angel grew to nothing more than a small dot in the distance that he relaxed, tense shoulders loosening and wings slowing in their beat, simply keeping him in place now rather than preparing to shoot one direction or the other if the attack was suddenly renewed.

But now that the enemy was gone, there was no threat. Silently, he lowered his sword, flicking the last bit of angel blood off of it with a simple jerk of his wrist. Then, his weapon was slid carefully into the scaled scabbard at his side, keeping it safe until he could return to their makeshift base and cater fully to it.

Kira rolled his armored shoulders as a familiar screech sounded somewhat close to this ear and his head snapped up, seeing the flock of dragons flying away back to their nesting place for the night, until the next battle. Demons were distant cousins of dragons, and as such, the screech was not simply a screech, but contained meaning to those that understand Dragonian.

It was a farewell, a promise, and a wishing of a safe journey home to their allies, and Kira inclined his head, raising a hand in acknowledgment. The dragon tipped its wing in a silent salute and resumed winging home.

A flash of light caught his eyes and he lowered his hand very slowly, stopping when it was at eye level. The demon General examined it almost curiously, tilting his hand one way and then another. The blood, a remnant of when he had slashed at that white-haired angel, slid thickly across the top of his hand.

It was not something he regretted- war was war and battles caused injuries. He could not find it in himself to find empathy with those he injured or killed in the course of this bloody war. The only thing he did slightly regret were the actions that had started this whole damned war, but then again, that had not been his nor his kind's fault.

But those were thoughts for another time, when his bones and muscles were not aching from exertion, and his mind was not still hazy and muddled from the remnants of dire bloodlust and lack of energy from expending it on magick constantly through the battle.

Still, the angel blood remained on his hands, and he continued to stare at it, admiring the substance in the last bit of light that still remained from the dying rays of the sunset.

Angel blood had always fascinated him, fascinated all of his kind. It glowed, haloed in a ring of light that was barely discernible, lined with a silver gilt. Streams of light, like cracks or veins, were able to be seen faintly running through it, seemingly moving all by itself, writhing through the red blood like sunlit snakes. It was an almost beautiful substance, this blood, and that it came from a living thing was only another added allure.

Slowly, Kira brought the back of his armored hand to his lips and inhaled, feeling the warmth emanating from the bright substance against the sensitive skin. The indescribable scent of light and the much more familiar smell of iron and metal filled his senses, and a sudden urge overcame him. He opened his mouth, extending a forked tongue to delicately lick off the blood.

He nearly purred in pleasure at the taste that exploded in his mouth. Angel blood tasted of light, purity, and innocence, with the harshly enthralling metallic tang of iron. As beings of darkness, the allure of the light was a powerful one, and the taste of it brought through the blood running through angels' veins was comparable to that of an exotic delicacy.

"Kira!"

The demon froze at the sound of his name and sharp, quick wingbeats. His clawed hand quickly dropped to his side as his head turned, seeing the familiar sight of a demon coming his way, wings the color of the most starless night beating at a powerful tempo.

His eyes narrowed as the demon drew to a graceful halt in front of him, black hair ruffled and smears of blood visible across his body, though Kira did not know if it was Mikami's own or an enemy's. The powerful wingbeats from the other demon's dark wings ruffled Kira's hair, but did not throw him off-balance at all.

Demons were more battle-orientated than angels; it was in their blood, their very makeup. His kind had evolved to become more suitable to this lifestyle. Powerful shoulder muscles bore strong, heavy wings which had leathery skin that was hard to pierce and their bones were light yet strong, and hard to break. Years of training allowed them to fly with their heavy, scaled armor with expert proficiency, and their weapons, burdensome to all but those with a demon's power, were nearly unbreakable. Blows from them were hard to block and even harder to evade due to demons' quickness in handling them.

"What is it this time, Mikami?" Kira finally asked, as if he had not just been seen tasting the blood of their enemy, cleaning it from clawed hands.

He couldn't help but notice how Mikami's eyes were glued on the clawed fingers that still had smears of blood tainting them. "Light called us back- this day is nearly over, and there is no sense in lingering here any longer," the demon told Kira, eyes never wavering from the last traces of blood that still glinted with white light in some places.

Kira growled warningly at him, baring pearly-white fangs. His fists clenched in a futile attempt to hide his hands. "Mikami…" he warned, lest the demon say anything.

Mikami held up his hands in a gesture of peace, unconsciously hovering back a few inches, muscles tensing in fear that he had provoked Kira in the wrong way. "Have no fear, I am not judging you," Mikami reassured his fellow demon. Brown eyes grew a bit faraway and melancholy as he murmured, "I do it as well, on occasion. It is… addicting," Mikami smiled ruefully, "the light, is it not?"

Kira cocked his head, fists unclenching, studying the black- haired demon who was also one of his closest companions, momentarily. His armor was dirty and bloodstained, and his hairtie had been ripped loose, causing the normally neat black strands to fall free and now they were all tangled from the battle.

"Yes. The desire for what one cannot have is always the strongest, I've found…" Kira conceded, inclining his head.

Turning away, he threw a last glance at the gleaming-white city made of marble that the angels and humans made their home. Kira well knew that even in the night, the white stone was luminous, glowing with a soft, warm light that could be seen even from their base, deep in the shadowy woods.

A sort of strange longing grabbed hold of his heart as his crimson eyes traced the outline of the spiraling towers and sturdy stone walls that ran the perimeter of Civit'Atem. Some of the stories he had heard from before the war when demons and angels still were in accord with each other, and Civit'Atem was home to all… when the city was still a center of tolerance and learning rather than a war base that was surrounded by light-based magicks that repelled all creatures such as he…

Crimson eyes narrowed at that last thought, which had been successful in breaking him from his reverie. The past was the past, and he had to deal with the future and present right now, today. There was no use in thinking of times long past. They only served to dredge up painful hopes and longings.

Shaking his head, Kira turned away from the sight of Civit'Atem gleaming in the distance and towards the dark expanse of the woods where his kind had built their base, hidden deep within the towering trees. "Come along, Mikami," Kira said, flaring his wings, feeling Mikami doing the same next to him. "My brother is no doubt eager to hear about today's events."

It wasn't long after departing the battlefield that Mikami and Kira were alighting in front of a dilapidated mansion in the middle of the forest. Kira folded his wings tightly to his back as he alighted, metal tips of his boots digging into the soft, moist earth.

The sound of Mikami likewise alighting came from behind him, and before Kira could make towards the mansion as his tired body so desperately longed to, he felt a clawed, armored hand on his shoulder, stopping him from going anywhere. Looking back, he saw Mikami gazing at him with a look of mixed concern and utmost seriousness in his dark eyes.

"Kira," Mikami said quietly, so that none of the other guards milling about in the area would overhear, though Kira knew that for the most part, any others were out of hearing distance. "We cannot keep living like this, longing for the light while bathing in what darkness we can. The strain of staying in this world..." he discreetly gestured to the surrounding area and the demons that milled upon the grass of the mansion's lawn, "It is becoming too much for many."

It was a temper born of exhaustion, and Kira knew he had no right to be angry, but the reminder of all that they had been and were suffering for the cause of this endless war sparked an undeniable annoyance within him. "I am aware of this, Mikami," Kira hissed, brushing aside the black-clawed hand, turning away and pulling his wings tightly to his back in a subconsciously defensive gesture.

"What would you have me do about this?" Kira continued, refusing to look back at Mikami, whose dark eyes shone with hurt. "This war is but a wheel, and we are the spokes which are helpless to do naught but continue making it turn." Kira's voice was angry at first, but it soon grew more war-weary and frustratedly helpless as he continued, until he finished and there was a heavy silence hanging between the two demons.

Mikami was the first to break the silence, giving a small sigh and accepting Kia's words as an undeniably harsh truth, slowly passed Kira and started making his way to the mansion. Kira's eyes were fixed firmly on the ground, a frown pulling his lips down as Mikami went around him.

However, Kira's attention was caught when Mikami came to a halt, staring up at the sky for a moment in thought, before he said quietly, "But wheels stop turning if the spokes break, Kira. Remember that."

Mikami's insightful, though slightly puzzling words made Kira blink, watching the other cross the expanse of lawn and disappear around the back of the mansion, where the portal to their home world of Niccht'Dea swirled in seething mass of alluring dark energy.

He stared after his friend for a short second longer, before snorting and shaking his head. Mikami could be ambiguous at times, and other times, such as this, just plain confusing. His words, though…. Kira filed them away to ponder over later as he started walking once again, nodding to the wandering demons who greeted him as he made his way up the stairs and into the mansion, climbing the stairs to the second floor and going down the right hall.

He stepped into his room at the very end of the hall, closing the solid, ebony-wood door behind him and locking it, though he was certain no one would dare intrude upon him. Though he wished he could have followed Mikami through the portal and rested in his home world, he knew that he would be needed here tonight, at his brother's side. Still, though, he longed for the Dark World, for the soothing darkness of the world they called home was comforting, as were the dark energies that flowed through Niccht'Dea. It replenished their energies, and soothed the aches and pains caused by the life-force of a world that was not their home.

Giving a weary sigh, he made his way over to the corner, where there was an empty armor rack standing upright. Slowly, for his muscles ached and he was very tired, he unbuckled his belt and set it, along with the attached sheath and sword onto his bed gently, then reached a clawed hand over to a leather bracer secured tightly around his left wrist. He rested his fingertips upon the large, blood-red jewel that was imbedded into the black-cured leather and quietly said, last remnants of stored energy lacing his voice, "_Selia'se osv svori s'as_."

After the last word had been uttered, the armor that had been protecting Kira's form all day started to dissolve, melting off of his body in curls of black smoke that swirled thickly around the leather bracer. The smoke slipped between Kira's clawed fingers and was sucked into the crimson depths of the jewel. Once the last of the smoke had dissipated, the jewel glowed bright with a darkness lurking deep in the center, and Kira was left clad in naught but the old clothes he wore under the armor to prevent chafing and irritation due to the harsh metal of his armor.

Yawning, Kira stretched, raising his arms above his head and spreading leathery wings out sharply to the side all while wincing at the pervading soreness that invaded all of his muscles. The amount of energy he used today had made him extremely exhausted, and he shook his head. Turning his back on the armor rack, he slowly made his way into his bathroom, flicking the electric light on. He still marveled at how creative and innovative humans were when it came to technology. While electricity had long ago been discovered by the demons and angels, it was discarded as useless, for their magic allowed them to do whatever they needed to.

But then, humans came along and harnessed electricity as well as other means of power, creating technological wonders such as airships, electric lights, and many other wonders. This mansion had not long been abandoned when Kira's kind had stumbled across it, and though it took them some time, they eventually were able to get the electricity working once more. They were able to enjoy the luxuries of electric lighting and hot showers, instead of having to utilize candles and draw baths or waste energy making magic-based light or heat the baths.

Kira, now in a more human form, turned the knobs that would start the shower, looking around quickly in a precursory glance to make sure he had all the necessities. His eyes caught a glimpse of his own reflection in the mirror, and for once, he took a moment to give a small, brief smirk at the image reflected in the mirror. Once rid of his armor and weapons, he could nearly pass as a human. There were a few things he couldn't get rid of, like the clawed fingers, or the fangs and especially his wings. His eyes glowed an unnatural (for a human but not a demon) crimson, but there was nothing that could be done about that.

But as his eyes traveled down to catch sight of the mat of scars that covered his torso and back, memoirs from a time before he had truly earned to fight and more often than naught a blade made of _Luxa'fer_, metal infused with light, got past his defenses and sliced through the dark energy his armor was made of. It happened rarely now, for the swarms of angels were not as thick as they once were, and Kira was not as unskilled as he once was. He finally turned away, though, as steam started filling the room. There was nothing he could do about the price that war had left upon his body, nor any of the other demons'.

Stepping into the now steaming shower, he hissed a little bit as the water stung a bit at first, but then relaxed as the hot water streamed over his body, and soothed his tired and aching muscles. He reached for the soap, and scrubbed all the dirt and blood off of his body, then shampooed and conditioned his hair.

He stepped out of the shower once he was finished, and not wanting to have to dry off, muttered a few words, and the excess water from his body and hair immediately evaporated into the room. He still wrapped a towel around his waist, however.

Exiting the bathroom, he paused, sniffing the air. Curious, for he smelled hot food, he made his way to the door, unlocking it and looking down. To his surprise, there was a tray of food in front of his door, along with a small, folded piece of parchment placed in the left corner.

Leaning over, he picked the parchment up, carefully unfolding it and reading the words written in familiar handwriting.

_Eat. I'll see you in a bit._

A small, fanged grin overtook Kira's face and he leant down to scoop up the tray. He shut the door while examining the tray, finding it laden with food that could only be found in the Niccht'Dea.

There was smoked _moura_, a small, flying animal that looked the cross between a weasel and a rabbit, sliced _juuyi_, a sweet, yet tart fruit that grew in small bunches on low-hanging vines, and _leiva_, a rich- tasting bread that sometimes had chunks of fruit or sweet vegetables baked into it.

Kira was also pleasantly surprised to see, in a small bowl-like cup in the corner of the tray some _teisv_, which was a sweet drink made from various spices and fruits. The taste of the drink varied from town to town and region to region.

Setting the tray down on his neatly-made bed, he picked up the plate of Moura and made his way over to his closet, eating while he pulled out some casual clothes, carrying them over to his bed. He tossed the clothes onto the bed while he finished the last of the moura and returned the plate to the tray, reaching over to take the cup of teisv and raising it to his lips to take a sip. His eyebrows rose as he returned the teisv to the tray. This teisv was somewhat familiar, as he had had it before… he suspected it was from Key'Vas, a town on the northern part of the continent that was well-known for its especially sweet-tasting teisv.

He had enjoyed it immensely before, and was somewhat pleased to know that his preferences had been noted. This thought brought a small smile to Kira's lips as he picked up a piece of the leiva and placed a few slices of juuyi onto it. In a few bites, he had finished the last of his meal and set the tray aside. He discarded the towel hanging low over his hips, quickly pulled his clothes on and made his way towards the door, slipping the well-worn boots on before leaving.

When he exited his room, his feet were clad in worn, knee-length black boots, and he was wearing a black pair of loose trousers, and a white shirt, with the sleeves rolled up and top three buttons undone. Like all of his shirts, it had slits in the back, starting at the top of his shoulderblade and running all the way to the end of the shirt that could be secured and closed at the bottom with clasps.

Kira made his way down to the meeting room, soft leather boots padding quietly on the wood flooring of the mansion. Technically, he did not need to go tonight, as it was not a meeting of urgency and the report on today's happening was no doubt being given by a scout whose sole charge was to take note of the status of the battles and report back. The orders from the Commander would no doubt be given to him by a scout as well if he did not show up. There was another reason he continued to attend the meetings, however, and the thought of the Commander brought a smile to his lips, and his pace quickened until he was finally was in front of the large door that led to the meeting room.

Pushing it aside easily, Kira stepped inside and shut the door firmly behind him, ensuring that the room was soundproof. At his appearance, he was greeted by the officers of the demon forces, who were all also cleaned and refreshed, those who had attended battle today rid of their burdensome armor, and those who had stayed behind still had it donned, as they had not had the chance to return to the Niccht'Dea or their rooms within the soldier's quarters and remove it.

He responded politely to each greeting, though his eyes flitted about the room and were nearly immediately drawn to a pair of warm amber ones.

The Commander had looked up as Kira entered, and immediately, a small smile had tugged at his lips, amber eyes lighting up in pleasure at the appearance of Kira. "General," he murmured, pushing himself away from the table and standing straight. His clawed hands rose to brush away the bangs from his eyes and he watched Kira approach, the General's tiredness seeming to dissipate as he neared closer to his brother.

"You are late. I was worried that something had happened," Light said quietly, resting a gauntleted hand on his twin's shoulder, taking care that the pointed metal that covered his natural claws caused no injury, as his brother was no longer covered by his armor. Unknowingly, his amber eyes slid over Kira's body, as if checking for any new wounds, attempting to reassure himself that his brother had once again returned unharmed.

In response, a fanged smile took Kira's lips, crimson eyes lighting up for perhaps the first time that day. "It would take more than the angel's meager forces to bring me down," Kira said matter-of-factly, for all knew it was very much true.

Blinking, Light smiled and removed his hand from Kira's shoulder, turning back to the table he had been perusing at the moment of Kira's entrance. The surface of the table was actually a large map of the surrounding area, with small tokens adorned with flags of black and white marking both side's troops. Kira followed suit, bracing his hands against the table as the officers in the room all came to attention, huddled around the table.

"The battle today was in our favor," Light informed them, officially beginning the meeting now that their General was here. "The dragons were most pleased with the outcome, I feel."

"Indeed," one of the lesser officers spoke up. "Their casualties today were very low- only two young hatchlings were brought down, and one was injured. I think that they shall remain in the war, as long as their numbers do not drop too low. As the last of the dragon herds, they cannot allow their numbers to drop too low. They still need to breed, and do not wish to risk inbreeding."

"I do not fault them for this," Light murmured, reaching out to gently pick up a green-flagged token that was the dragons', and moved it a bit closer to the brown square token that represented their own home base. "Their matriarch informed me before they withdrew that they would be moving their roosting grounds closer to our headquarters to better communicate with us if the time came."

A murmur of approval ran throughout the room, and Light glanced up, catching Kira's eye and giving him a small smile, which Kira returned without any hesitation. Light shifted closer to Kira, brushing his still-armored hand over Kira's exposed one for a moment, and Kira closed his eyes for a moment, feeling a brief flash of empathy go through him.

It was hard for Light to be here, in the relative safety of their hideout while many others were risking their lives on the battlefield, but as Kira had reminded him many times- they needed a Commander to lead them by commanding their moves and as they formulated their strategies, and they needed a General to carry out those moves and strategies on the battlefield. Light was just as deadly as Kira in battle, but Light had always been the thinker, the dreamer and idealist when they had been younger, before the time came when they had to commit themselves to this war. Light did a better job here than Kira could have ever done, which was why they stayed in their respective roles.

However, it did not mean that Kira did not enjoy simply standing here and listen to Light talk, speculate about what their next move should be and how. Satisfied that he was where he needed to be, where he belonged, right at Lights side, Kira allowed himself to relax, listening intently as information was relayed and plans were made for the next day's battle, and giving his own input when necessary and needed.

* * *

The next day, Kira watched the battle from his usual spot, ready to go to the aid if the battle seemed to be turning in the angels' favor. Right now, though, they seemed to be doing just fine. He looked up towards the sky, and briefly smiled. There was no sign of the large airship that seemed to be the helm ship, and as a result, there were no others. It had been a most damaging strike against the humans and their technology when they had taken out the helm ship.

The dragons were just arriving, being drawn to the sounds of battle, and the promise of spilling angel blood. The beats of mighty wings sent vibrations running all along the air currents, and Kira grit his teeth as he was jarred, wings shivering in response.

Their relationship with the dragons was simple, yet somewhat complicated. The dragons were their allies, yet rarely came when called, usually showing up when the battles proved especially good pickings for killing off angels. The dragons had been persecuted and executed as dark beings hailing from the Niccht'Dea for centuries by the angels, and past blood spilt fueled their rage towards the angels.

Of course, Kira mused, while it was understandable thought process from the holier-than-thou angels, they were incorrect in their thinking that the noble dragons were evil, unthinking beasts. Being born of the Niccht'Dea did not an evil creature make. His lips curled in a slight sneer as the next thought came to mind. The angels did not know that dragons had a sentience much like humans, although more primal and animalistic in nature. The demons were distant cousins of the dragons, and therefore could understand the dragons. Angels could not, and before the war, it had not been a problem. Dragons rarely were seen, their numbers dwindling rapidly over the years.

The angels had not been concerned, but the demons were, as the dragons were their distant kin. However, the problem of the dwindling dragon population had not come to light for years, as the reptilian beasts were solitary creatures and rarely made contact with those outside of their own species.

The demons had been enraged to hear of this treatment of their kin and made sure to tell the dragons. It both allowed the demons to recruit them and gain their allegiance in this war, where before they had been neutral in regards to their distant and more humanlike kin.

Kira let out a deep breath, closing his tired eyes from a brief second. The battle today was already an assured victory for them, now that the dragons had flown in, screaming their battle-cries and rending exposed flesh with tooth and claw. It was not often the dragons did appear on the battlefield, but when they did, it was always to bring about a near-massacre of the angel's troops.

The thought of In fact, he was about to turn and leave, seeing the battle was well in its way to being won, when a familiar voice ridden with panic ripped along his mind, making his eyes snap open wide in shock.

Swiftly, he cast about, attempting to pinpoint where Mikami was, only to find him at some distance away from the main fighting, surrounded by 6 angels, recognizable by their glimmering armor and gleaming, feathered wings. Even from this far away, Kira could see the tears in Mikami's leathery wings caused by sharp angel blades, and the darkly-tainted blood that ran down the demon's pale face from scratches and cuts. Though Mikami was one of their best fighters and was still holding his own valiantly, Kira knew that injured and surrounded, his friend would not last long.

Red eyes slitted venomously at the thought, and sharp teeth bared in an unholy snarl. Too many lives had been lost; Mikami's would be another death he himself would die before suffering. Turning his back on the rest of the battlefield, Kira spread blood-red wings and leaped to the sky, rending the air with a harsh _crack_ as his wings beat down. He tore through the air viciously, red eyes locked onto Mikami.

He arrived seconds too late to aid the black-haired demon, however, as Mikami faltered, and two angels surged forth to knock the blade from his hands and capture his arms in a grip that was akin to steel. Kira came to a harsh halt as the angels attempted to subdue Mikami, who was thrashing, black hair flying as he vainly attempted to break free.

"Angel filth," Kira snarled, hovering a few feet away and above all of the angels. Collectively, they all looked up, and Kira was sadistically pleased to note that more than one of the angels' faces went stark-white in fear at the sight of him. "Let him go," Kira growled, raising a black-clawed hand to gesture at Mikami.

Silvery laughter that grated on his very essence issued forth lightly, and Kira's eyes landed upon the possessor of this laugh. The musical laughter came from a white-haired angel, though his grey eyes were cold and hard, belying his false mirth. Kira watched as this single angel flew up, so that Kira was no longer looking down upon him. Reaching up, the angel gripped the edge of the white beaked hood that attached to the rim of his _gorget_, a piece of armor that protected the neck and covered the neck opening. With a quick flick, the angel tipped the hood back, exposing his pale face and even paler white curls.

He knew why the angels wore hoods- demons were notorious for holding grudges, and there were more than a few cases where an angel had been hunted relentlessly upon the battlefield by a vengeance-seeking angel. Anonymity among the battlefield was simply another defense the angels had devised, for if his kind did not know who attacked or wounded them, they could not seek out the one that did it and take their revenge.

But looking at the unhooded angel… Kira could not help but think that he was familiar, for some reason. Kira had faced him on the battlefield before, and for some reason, the angel still lived.

"I know who you are, demon, and I'm not afraid," the angel called, steady wingbeats keeping him aloft and straight as he reached down to his armored boot and pulled a silver dagger from its hiding place within it. The glint of a silver-handled pistol resting securely in a gilt holster attached to the leather belt at the angel's waist caught Kira's eye and he gave a small mental sneer.

Human technology was useful, a fact that could not be denied, but there was no honor in shooting down an opponent from so far away, when they had not a chance to defend themselves. Arrows from bows and bolts from crossbows had a chance of being deflected, but too often, bullets were simply too fast to be detected in time to ward off.

The angel ran a white finger along the flat edge of the blade, giving Kira a small, mocking smile as he did so, making the demon's red lip curl in disgust. "Fight me, and we shall let your companion free."

At the unexpected challenge, Kira's wings faltered only slightly before resuming their steady beating. Kira's crimson eyes flicked around the circle of angels that surrounded them, not fighting or holding their weapons threateningly, simply observing calmly. A slight shiver of unease went through the demon as he saw further on that the main battle was raging on further away than he had at first thought, forcing Kira and Mikami into isolation. As enraptured as his kin were in their individual battles, they would not notice their absence….

It was undeniable that something was amiss. And yet… he simply could not allow Mikami to fall into the hands of their enemy, or be executed as if he were a dog.

Gritting his teeth, Kira reached behind him to draw his sword from its sheath, running fingers along the blade, producing sparks and crackles of dark energy along the night-black metal. "The condition is acceptable. Release him," Kira called, eyes narrowing as he saw a flash of eagerness that could not be concealed run through the angel's grey eyes. It only exacerbated the feeling of unease Kira got about this predicament, but he fought it down, choosing to focus upon the fight at hand.

"Release him? Not until our fight is over, for I've no guarantee he will not turn on us and unbalance the odds," the angel replied, shaking his head, though he drifted just the slightest bit closer, wings angling subtly to better catch the air currents.

Kira felt Mikami's consciousness desperately beat upon his, trying to tell him something. But Kira was in no mood for such a distraction and so he pushed the other demon away, firmly locking him out of his mind and preventing any other attempts to gain access. From where he was hovering, he could see the panic written upon Mikami's normally calm face, saw the tall demon struggling, mouth working from under a gauntleted hand as he tried to shout something.

However, Kira paid this no attention, instead ignoring the other demon in favor of raising his sword, baring his teeth in challenge. "Then come and fight me!" Kira snarled.

The angel only laughed and swiftly dove forwards, lunging for Kira's side, seeking to slip his blade in the vulnerable part where chestplate met shoulder pauldron. Kira, however, was wary and used to such attacks and was able to slide to the side. Twisting around in a graceful motion, he brought his sword down, trying to slice the angel in the back.

The smaller man moved not a second too soon, swinging his arm around in time to block the blow. Silver metal grated on black, and sparks flew as the angel gathered his strength and pushed back. Kira was not expecting such strength and unprepared, he stumbled backwards through the air.

He righted himself a few moments later, however, stabilizing himself with steady wingbeats. Flicking crimson eyes up, he saw the white-haired angel hovering calmly in the air, though Kira saw his pale hand held the slightest tremors, and impassive grey eyes held the tiniest bit of apprehension.

…So the angel was not as confident as he seemed. This was good to know, for although Kira was more than aware that physical prowess made a fine warrior on the battlefield, knowing how to emotionally manipulate and strike fear, even if the act of bravery was just a falsehood, into the hearts of their enemies was sometimes the deciding factor. A fearful fighter could not focus; an unfocused enemy meant an immediate advantage.

At this, a small dangerous curl took over Kira's lip, exposing one sharp fang.

His hand gripped his sword tightly, and before the angel could react, he was diving forwards. His right arm raised, as if to strike and the angel prepared to block the incoming blow. But at the last second, Kira dropped his sword and raised his left arm. His hand clenched into a fist, and struck the white-haired angel on his right shoulder.

The attempt to chock and jarr the angel enough to make him lose his grip was unsuccessful, however. The angel tumbled back thought the air but the grip on his dagger never loosened. Instead, the angel used the momentum to roll backwards through the air, coming to a short halt facing Kira, before he beat his wings once and shot forwards. The dagger, Kira saw, was aiming right for his leg. Anticipating the blow, he sidestepped left in the air and attempted to slice the angel in the chest as he drew closer, only to have the other twist and block the blow with a raised left arm. The metal bracer adorning the angel's arm must have been stronger than it looked and infused with protective magick- the darkness-infused metal of Kira's blade did not slice through the bracer as he thought it would.

Twisting his arm, the angel forced Kira's sword hand down, and in the next second had raised the hand wielding the dagger up to swiftly slice Kira across the cheek.

It was the first blood drawn and drew a hiss from the demon, burning crimson eyes narrowing as he raised his leg to kick his opponent away. The smaller angel, however, was faster and hastily flew backwards in a few beats of his wings, further than Kira thought he would. In fact… he made no attempt to renew his attack. He simply hovered, scant feet from where the rest of his loathsome forces were gathered, still holding Mikami by his arms.

"Come back here!" Kira snarled angrily, wiping the streak of blood from his cheek, grip around the hilt of his sword tightening. "I am not finished with you!"

The white-haired angel had the audacity to flick the little bit of black-laced blood from his dagger and return it into its resting place within his boot, shaking his head. "Actually…" the angel spoke, voice hard, flicking impassive grey eyes up to Kira as the angel straightened himself, "I think you are."

Kira snarled in anger, arm already raising to renew his attack upon this infuriating white-haired angel, when he felt something go horridly wrong. Dread rose in his heart as his vision blurred, everything tipping drunkenly to the right, and his grip upon his sword weakened as his hand was drained of its strength. "What…?" Kira growled, shaking his head in an attempt to clear it, only to have his hand waver, and his grip weaken totally, sword slipping from his hand and falling to the battlefield some distance below them.

The other angel just watched with emotionless grey eyes as Kira snarled, struggling to stay aloft in the air when blackness was seeping into his vision and weakness was coursing through his blood. "I think it's time to call it a night, wouldn't you, Kira?"

The demon, though was incapable of answering, only managing to give one last enraged and defiant growl as his vision finally completely blacked out, his wings slowed and stopped beating, and Kira tumbled to the ground below, plummeting through the air, unconscious.

* * *

Near's small smile faded as his smugness changed to worry. He had succeeded in drugging the demon, as ordered by his superior, but what if Kira's comrades found him? He'd never be able to recover the demonic General then! His mission would be a failure, and he could not, _wouldnot_ allow that. His superior expected so much more of him than a failure on this, angel and humankind's most important mission.

Whipping around, Near barked a sharp order at the other 5 angels under his command to follow him before turning and swiftly plunging through the air to reach the ground. Above him, his angels released the now-struggling demon, warding off the blast of flame the demon summoned before pursuing Near and leaving the injured being of darkness behind to stumble through the air and back to his own kind. The red-winged demon's form became clearer the closer he became to the ground, reassuring Near that no others had witnessed what had happened and had attempted to retrieve the General Kira themselves.

Near alighted onto the dead earth of the battlefield lightly, followed not even seconds later by his other five companions. He held up a fisted hand to signal the other five to wait. Completely obedient to their commanding officer, they waited, though with weapons still drawn as Near approached the demon.

Warily, Near approached the demon, reaching into his boot to once again pull out his dagger, in the case of an unexpected attack from either Kira, who was perhaps only pretending to be unconscious, or another demon who was even now watching them. He knelt at Kira's side while being careful of the splayed red wings, grey eyes raking swiftly up the armor-clad body, watching keenly for any small tremors or twitches that would belie an awakened state. None came, however, and Near felt reassured enough to reach out, firmly grasp hold of the demon's spiked shoulder pauldron, and with a swift jerk, rolled the demon over so that he was lying on his back instead of his right side.

Carefully, Near pulled back an eyelid, tamping down his mild fascination that had emerged as soon as he had neared the demon. The closest he, or anyone else in recorded history, had ever gotten to a live demon was in battle, when one was slaughtering the other. To be this close to the demon now… to observe both all of the little dissimilarities and eerie similarities between their races, like the sharp canines that rested upon normal lips, or the small black horns that poked out and curved backwards from out of a head of normal auburn hair was something that couldn't fail to capture Near's attention.

However, he had a mission to complete. Near stared into a relaxed red eye, and after but a moment of deliberation, pulled his gauntlet off and felt for a pulse under the edges of demonically black and red armor. He felt the steady beating slow under his fingertips, (the demon's skin was soft, though firm, much like a human's or angel's, Near couldn't help but note) and it was then that he was finally satisfied that the great General Kira was safely unconscious and ready to be transported.

"It is safe," Near called over his shoulder, standing up and straightening himself, pulling his gauntlet back onto his hand as the other angels came forwards. One of them reached inside a pouch dangling from a leather belt and pulled a silver whistle from it, raising it to her lips and loudly playing a fast, staccato melody on it.

Not but seconds later, a human man in the dress of a farmer emerged from behind a hill some ways away, driving a cart pulled by two plain mules and bearing a small stack of straw and a blanket. Tied to the back of the cart and in a few cases, following the others were 5 white horses, saddled and bearing the silver and white colors of Civit'Atem. And though the man was supposedly a farmer in nature, as the group drew nearer to the gathered angels, occasionally, a glint of exposed armor or the gleam of an army-issued sword could be peeking through the "farmer's" clothes and rucksack that was tossed onto the wooden seat next to him.

The driver of the cart came to a slow halt by the angels, and wasting no time, the human soldier dressed in the guise of a farmer was dismounting the cart, while the other angels save for Near circled around, pulling the hay from the cart and placing it onto the ground, as well as untying the horses. The horses, though freed, remained obediently standing nearby rather than running off, as the sounds of the distant battle might incite a lesser-trained beast to do.

The disguised soldier stepped in front of Near, offering the angel a small bow. "I take it your endeavor was successful, as you are calling me?" the man ventured pleasantly.

Near gave a small nod, and he saw the man's eyes travel over to Kira's unconscious form. Mixed surprise and fear upon recognition of who the demon actually was flitted through the human's eyes, though Near had to admire his restraint as the man simply turned away and nodded. "Then all is well. What I do not understand, however, is the decision to use such slow methods of transport," the man said, gesturing to the horses and cart. "Why was the demon not simply flown back to the White City?"

"Flying would be too conspicuous," Near explained patiently, watching observantly as the other angels lifted Kira into the cart, covering the prone form with a blanket and then a light stack of straw, making sure that the demon was able to breathe while doing so. "The demons would certainly notice if we were to fly off with a demon in our hands. In this way, it simply looks like a farmer being escorted by passing scouts to the city, rather than the enemy flying off with their precious General."

"Ah," the man nodded in understanding, before giving a small salute and turning away to help with the arrangements. Taking the opportunity to report back to his superior in Civit'Atem, Near turned away and closed his eyes. Concentrating, he allowed his consciousness to reach out, searching until he found the one man that he wanted to contact. Near brushed his consciousness against his superior's, silently asking for permission to be granted access into the other's mind.

He felt the inquiring probe of his superior's as his consciousness was examined, and then, he was allowed just enough access to send a greeting and identify himself if he were unknown. However, Near was more than familiar, and not wanting to waste time or words, he simply relayed, _Lawliet. Our mission was successful._

He sensed the other angel's relief as permission was completely granted into his commanding angel's mind.

_Excellent,_ L replied, the angel's low, husky voice echoing through his mind. A small shudder went through Near as the voice rippled through his consciousness. As much as he respected his superior… there was something absolutely _off_ about the angel, some nuance within his voice and presence that had always made Near just the slightest bit uneasy.

_I shall inform my brother and we shall await your arrival in the entrance hall, _L continued and then cut off the link before Near could once again reply. Grey eyes blinked once before Near shook his head at the abrupt cutoff. Usually, L was not so quick to cut him off. Either something pressing was on his mind, or there was something requiring his presence- such as the Commander.

"Sir." Near glanced back at the softly-spoken word, being broken out of his thoughts. "We are ready to leave." Near's grey eyes slid from the female angel right behind him, and he turned to see that the disguised soldier was just climbing back onto the cart, and his angels were getting settled into the saddles of their horses, gathering the reins into their hands. The female angel that had approached him held a set of leather reins loosely in her hands, the horse beside her waiting patiently.

"I shall fly back to Civit'Atem alone to scout for potential enemies in your path," the angel said before Near could say anything, "as well as tell them to lower the shields when you are close."

"Good," Near nodded, finally accepting the reins from the angel. She stepped back as Near went to the side of the animal, slipping his left foot into the stirrup and bracing his hands on the pommel. With a swift pull, he leapt up onto the horse, gathering the reins into his hands and slipping his right foot into the stirrup as well. The horse shifted underneath him and he calmed it with a soft caress of its neck.

Near spared one last glance to the waiting angel near him. "Fly back swiftly and await us in the city." She nodded and took to the sky in a single beat of her wings as Near turned the horse and walked it to where the rest of the angels were waiting to leave. Sweeping his eyes one last time over the cart that held the concealed demon, the angel gave a short, satisfied nod.

Reaching up, he pulled the hood over his head once more, concealing his identity and appearing as just another anonymous angel once more. "We move!" Near called, and with that, the soldier snapped his reins, and they were off, bearing a cargo that was infinitely precious to all of their futures.

On the battlefield, the war raged on, neither sides noticing the small caravan making its way gradually away from the battlefield and onto the main road leading to Civit'Atem, heading slowly to the White City in what would be the first step towards the end of an age-long war.

* * *

The frantic flapping of injured wings resounded throughout the clearing of the mansion, and the demons that had remained behind on this day all raised their heads to the sky in worry, for the battle had not yet been finished.

That it was Mikami, the General's closest companion save for his twin, and one of the fiercest fighters of their kind that was winging back from the battle was unsettling. Injuries such as he rarely suffered were present upon his person, and black-tainted blood ran from the holes torn in his wings by enemy blades.

Clumsily, he fell to the ground in front of the mansion when he came near enough to the ground, and wordlessly, he fought off any offers of help from those who had seen him and had rushed to his side, fearful of what may have happened. Mikami clutched his side, where there was a large hole rent in his armor and stumbled up the steps and through the door, eyes narrowed and teeth digging into his lip as a way to maintain control and ward away the pain the throbbed throughout his being.

He stumbled up the stairs and as swiftly as possible, made his way to the meeting room, where he was certain Light would be, planning out their next moves and awaiting news of the battle. Desperation gave him strength as he forced the heavy doors apart and tumbled into the room, ignoring the start that he gathered higher demons gave at his sudden intrusion.

Shock quickly gave way to confusion, and questioning voices rose in the room. They were ignored by Mikami, however, as he gritted his sharp teeth and rose onto his knees, still clutching the wound at his side. His wild eyes scanned the room until they landed on Light, who still had a map token held in his hand as his wide eyes assessed Mikami's slumped form.

"It's Kira," Mikami gasped, before Light could form any questioning words, wincing in pain. "The angels… I was careless… they used me as bait… drugged Kira… took him…"

Light's eyes widened even more in shock before they narrowed, hot, red rage coursing throughout his being at Mikami's words. The angels had had the audacity to take as prisoner his brother! The map token tumbled from his hand as he fluidly stepped around the table to kneel in front of Mikami, armored hand raising to gently lay against the side of Mikami's face.

Amber eyes stared into dark brown, and Mikami felt the first press of Light's mind against his, asking- no, demanding- permission to enter. Knowing what Light wanted, Mikami closed his eyes and allowed the access, lowering the mental barriers and feeling Light's presence flood into his mind. It washed over him like a tidal wave, familiar, yet unknown, for he had never felt this sense of rage and potent fury before in Light's mind. Quickly, unwilling to anger his Commander, he brought up the memories he had of the hour past, still fresh and burned into his mind.

He started with the most relevant memory, engaging the white-haired angel with the metal-grey eyes and lilting, empty laugh. He showed Light the moment he had realized something had gone wrong, when he saw that his pursuit of the angel had led him away from the main battle, and he was suddenly surrounded by a group of angels. They had quickly disarmed and taken hold of him, unable to do anything as he watched the white-haired angel pull out a phial of some viscous white substance and coat his dagger in it. It was then that Mikami had spotted the flash of red wings, and before he could stop it, his mind had sent out a broadcast of panic, knowing that Kira would hear it.

The vibrations Kira's great wings sent along the air currents was familiar to all who had faced him in battle before, and the white haired angel sent a single glance over his shoulder, grey eyes narrowed in thought as he observed Kira's approach.

_Kira comes… you and he must be very close… would he be willing to fight for you, I wonder…?_ The angel had whispered, more to himself than Mikami. He had ordered the angels to simply hold Mikami, but not to let him talk, in case he warned the General away.

It was only moments before he saw the familiar red wings spread, a minute more before Kira was there, snarling rage and burning crimson eyes, hate dripping from his voice as he commanded Mikami to be let go. By this time, Mikami let Light know, he had known something was amiss and that there was more to this than a simple challenge. Slyness coated the angel's words and actions, and there was something that he knew that they did not. Desperately he had tried to warn Kira, but the demon's mind was blocked firmly off, and Mikami could only watch helplessly as Kira fought, but succumbed to whatever the angel had coated his blade with- a poison or sedative, most likely.

As Kira plummeted to the ground, Mikami took the chance to break the hold his captors had on him, elbowing one in the face and attempting to slash the throat of the other with his claws. All it gained him, however, was a knife in his side, courtesy of the angel he had elbowed in the face. At that point, Mikami had known that it was a lost cause, and his one thought was that he had to get back and tell his kind what had happened, so that they knew what had happened rather than floundering in the dark.

Using some of the last reserves of his energy, he had turned the air around him scorching-hot, flames licking the sky around him and made his escape, leaving the angels to flounder in the burst of fire he had generated. But as he winged his way back to their base, he looked back a single time towards the ground, to see Kira being transferred into a cart.

At that, Mikami ended the flashback of his memories, having offered up all that he could give. His eyes opened the same time as Light's, and the dark emotions welling within usually warm amber eyes sent a chill racing down the other demon's spine.

Light's next words in the aftermath of the revealing memories were clipped and short, an immense amount of lethal anger just barely contained under his voice, enough to make all the rest in the room shudder upon the black rage that was pooling within their Commander, one of the most powerful demons in their world. "Where did they take him?"

"Civit'Atem," Mikami whispered, for there was no other place that they would possibly take him.

"The White City…" Light stood up and stalked to the window, rage emanating from his every being. His narrowed eyes gazed out at the gleaming white buildings of Civit'Atem, where his brother was now being held. Baring his teeth, Light's fists clenched, the screeching that emanated as metal rent across metal making a collective flinch travel across the room.

"Taking my brother will be your last strike against demonkind," Light whispered viciously. He sent a last, scorching glare towards the bright city before whipping around. "Send a messenger to the dragons with news of this latest development. They will be most interested to know. As for us…"

It pained Light to even think it, but he knew that nothing could be done for now. An attempt to storm the White City would be futile, for they could not penetrate the barrier of light that protected the city from those who chose to revel in the darkness.

His only consolation was that surely they would not simply execute Kira. He was much too valuable a hostage to simply be rid of. He held much information that the angels could use and held such a high position within their ranks that he could be used as a tool for leverage. Kira might not be safe from the whims of the fickle angels, but he surely was safe from death. It was Light's only solace, even though it was small. And Kira was strong. He would endure, Light was sure. He knew Kira would endure, for his brother always returned, without a fail.

"Sir?" one of the lesser officers inquired tensely, still awaiting Light's order. The demon Commander looked up, his hard amber eyes scanning over the room until they landed on Mikami, who was just being helped to his feet.

"Mikami."

The black-haired demon looked up sharply, tilting his head as he waited for Light's next words.

"Until Kira returns, you shall be taking his position," Light said, his tone hard and brooking no argument, though Mikami's dark eyes went wide at the sudden responsibility thrust upon him. "You were Kira's unofficial second-in-command, and if you have his trust, you have mine as well. I trust you shall serve as a capable replacement until Kira returns."

His eyes turned into pits of pitch-black as demons' were wont to do under extreme emotional situations as he turned away, ignoring the sounds of Mikami being helped out of the room and the call that went out for a healer. The heavy doors closed with a resounding, final thump as the room cleared and the last demon exited, sensing that to linger in the room with Light would not be in their best interests.

Black eyes continued to stare out the window, and Light's mind raced through plans and ideas, all fueled by rage and directed towards the hatefully pure-white walls of Civit'Atem.

* * *

**Translations:**

_Niccha'Vey_

Key = North

Vas = Water

Selia'se osv svori s'as. = Return to your home/place.


End file.
